


Feel Me Bleed

by orphan_account



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Blood and Gore, Collars, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Edgeplay, Gore, Humanstuck, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Leashes, M/M, Mindfuck, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Violent Sex, zebruh is kinda a bad guy but lol what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zebruh’s been waiting to get his hands on his idol for a while now, and when he does,he’s going to make sure he never forgets his name again.
Relationships: Zebruh Codakk/Marvus Xoloto
Kudos: 8





	Feel Me Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for my friend. hope she likes it cause it took me five fucking hours ahaha.  
> marvus and zebruh are humans in this story but still have colored blood, just saying that now to avoid confusion.  
> also, please please please mind the tags, it gets very graphic.  
> thanks for reading.

You feel exhausted as you finish your last performance. Per usual, the crowd goes batshit, shoving each other and strifing to get closer to the stage on which you stand. You give the audience a lazy smile and take a bow, laying the charisma on thick. You can see a few girls in the back faint when you shoot a wink in their general direction. Someone attempts to climb over the barricade, but is yanked back immediately by a group of angry fans. You silently pray that whoever that was makes it out alive. 

With a final wave you turn and saunter off the platform to the backstage area. You thank your staff team for ensuring that the show went smoothly, and dismiss them for the night. As they file out of the building to leave, you make your way towards your dressing room, desperate to fix your makeup from the intense performance. You don't notice the other person following you silently from within the shadows.

You stride down the hall and open the door engraved 'Marvus Xoloto'. You turn the lock and approach your vanity, carefully retouching where your painted face got smudged. With a satisfied grin in the mirror, you turn to grab a random t-shirt from the messy floor, relieved to change out of your flashy performance outfit. You loosen your bowtie and place it on a nearby table, then shrug your jacket off to hang on the coat rack near the door. As you are lifting your undershirt over your head, you catch a glimpse of movement just outside your site of vision. You whip around quickly, eyes glued to a dark corner on the right side of the room. You can barely make out the outline of a figure huddled in the blackness. 

"Who's there?" you call out, hesitant to move any closer. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention.

There's no response. Whoever it is just stands there, unmoving. Cautiously, you take a step forward. The air feels thick in your lungs as you swallow. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. As you draw nearer, you can make out a pair of gleaming indigo eyes. Your chest tightens. You really hope it isn't who you think it is. Finally, when you are only a few feet away, the figure stirs, advancing ever so slightly more into the light. They stand sluggishly hunched over, one arm behind their back and one in the pocket of their pants. They're dressed formally, as if this encounter was meant to be an important formal event. They smile at you as they step completely out of the corner, looking at you with an expression that makes your skin crawl. Yep, it's exactly who you think it is. 

"Hey, how did you-" you start to ask, but don't get through the sentence before a baseball bat comes swinging at your head. It slams into the side of your skull with a sickening crack, and everything completely blacks out.

When you regain consciousness your head is pounding, and you struggle to open your eyes. Pain throbs through your skull. You can hear commotion around you, but can't process anything that's going on. Your arms feel sore and your body feels heavy. Everything hurts and you shiver; your bones feel like ice and you can feel gooseflesh all over your skin. Warm blood drips from your temple, rolling thickly down your cheek and onto your neck. 

You groan when your eyelids finally crack open, blinking slowly in an attempt to adjust to the dim light of the room you now find yourself in. There's someone else here, but you can't see their face. Your head aches with confusion. Where the hell are you? 

"Good morning beautiful," the person says, standing up from the chair they were sitting in to walk over to you, "Rise and shine!"

You can tell by their voice that it's a man speaking. You've heard that voice before... yes, you know you have. But you can't place your finger on it. He smiles down at you with teeth that look a bit too sharp to be normal, and cringe as you feel his breath on your face. You're suddenly aware of the fact that you are very naked. No wonder you felt so cold. But how did you get here? Where are your clothes? You also realize with a flash of panic that your arms are shackled to the wall above your head. You try to stand but your legs give out, causing you to pathetically grab onto the chains for support.

"W-w..what?" you question, your voice cracked and broken. 

"What do you mean what?" He laughs softly, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting your head up so you're forced to look him in the eyes. 

"Who are you?" You whisper, more to yourself than to him. He backs up a few feet with a slight frown tugging on his lips. 

"I must admit, I'm a bit offended you don't remember," He shoves his hands in his pockets as he talks, walking back toward the direction of the chair he had just stood up from. 

"Remember?" You ask dumbly, still not understanding. This damn headache isn't helping either. 

"Yeah. I mean, I've been to every one of your shows since you were just starting out." 

Your brain throbs to understand the words he's saying. You let your head fall numbly to your shoulder as he leaves your path of vision. You can hear him clanking around with something somewhere to the left.

"Last year," he continues, facing away from you so your ears struggle even harder to pick up his words, "You had me blacklisted from your shows for loitering around your trailer." 

You feel an odd sense of déjà vu as he talks.

"In all honesty, I was offended. After all, I've supported you since the beginning, yet you treat me like gutterblood trash." 

He returns to stand in front of you as you attempt to wrap your mind around what's going on. You know for a fact that you have definitely seen him before. But your brain still refuses to cooperate. You aren't paying much attention to his actions until he saunters in so close it would be impossible to ignore him if you tried. It isn't until then that you notice what he's holding. A small silver dagger is clutched delicately in his right hand, gleaming even in the dim basement lights. Suddenly you remember just who this asshole is. 

"Holy shit," you breathe, trying to struggle away from him, but even without your wrists restrained you would still be too weak in your current state.

"Remember me now?" He smiles, subconsciously running a finger along the blade in his hand. 

"How did you get into my dressing room?" You demand, keeping your eyes glued to the sharp object he's holding way too close to your body for comfort.

"Your security guards are idiots," He says, then pauses to add, "Were idiots, I mean." 

He's laughing at his own line now, and you can't help but feel that he sounds a bit maniacal. Even more than you are, and as a Juggalo you're pretty hard to beat in that department. 

"Zebruh," you squeak out quietly, and his grin widens as you mutter his name. 

"Yeah?" He hums in response, leaning in a bit closer as if talking to a toddler, who needs to be shown that the adult is indeed listening to what they have to say. 

"What the hell man?" You croak, a self-deprecating smile plastered uncomfortably on your face as you do your best to put as much distance as you can between the two of you. This has to be some kind of fucked up joke, right?

He frowns, "I'm not sure what you mean by that."

You don't reply, eyes blown hilariously wide as you feel the cold steel of his blade push up against the skin of your neck. He doesn't slit your throat, instead he trails the knife down the side of it and along the indent of your collarbones. You don't even dare to breathe; it may not be piercing you now, but you can tell it's so sharp that it easily could with just the slightest bit of pressure. He drags it down your chest and stops to circle around the general location of your heart, allowing the point of his dagger to nick the smallest bit of skin and draw a drop of deep purple blood from your veins. You screw your eyes shut with a whimper. He traces each of your nipples with the blade, causing you to involuntarily shudder. He then drags it down the center of your chest, across your stomach, and all the way down until he reaches your pelvis, where he allows it to linger a moment before moving to your right thigh.

"Don't scream," he instructs, and you have no time to react before he's applying pressure to the tip of the knife and it's cutting through your skin like paper. 

Of course you scream. You scream so loud that people in the next fucking galaxy must have heard your wails of pain. The sound fills your ears and drowns out your thoughts, until all you see is white-hot blinding agony. You kick and thrash and attempt to pull away, and to your surprise, Zebruh lets you. When you open your watery eyes, he's looking at you with an unimpressed expression. He doesn't say anything, just sighs and walks back out of sight. You desperately try to crane your neck to see what he's doing, but due to being chained up you can't accomplish anything. Instead you opt to bang your head against the hard wall behind you, trying to knock yourself out again. Zebruh comes rushing back with an angry scowl, his eyes full of undiluted fury. He slaps you hard across the face, and you immediately stop your motions. 

He reaches behind your neck and you feel something being fastened around it. To your horror, you realize it's a fucking dog collar. You try to speak but he pulls hard on the leash, causing the collar to tighten enough to crush your windpipes. You struggle to breathe as you choke and sputter, your face turning a darker purple by the second. After what feels like an eternity, but in reality was just a couple seconds, he releases the pressure and gives you a stern look. 

"Shut up." 

All you can do is nod your head in response.

His eyes flicker back down to your thigh, where a small wound is dripping purple down your leg. He brandishes his dagger again, returning the blade to where he had left off. You bite down hard on your lip as you try not to cry out again, hoping to all the mirthful messiahs that you get out of this torture alive. He continues carving into you, tugging hard on the dog collar anytime you make a noise or fall in danger of passing out. When he's done, he steps back to view his masterpiece wearing a satisfied smile. 

"Beautiful," he sighs as if looking at a pretty flower and not someone he had kidnapped and chained to the wall of his basement. 

You simply groan in response and look disdainfully up at him. He smiles and admires the dagger still clutched in his hand, now stained purple with blood. He brings it close to his face as if to lick it, but instead just stares at it carefully, as if trying to permanently burn the image of it into his mind. You peer at him expectantly while he does this, but he doesn't move. Finally after a while he lowers the weapon and slips it into his back pocket. Then he's close to your face again as he runs his tongue along your jawline and up behind your ear. You attempt to cringe away but he pulls you back by the collar, giving you a warning glance that tells you not to struggle. He leaves kisses on every part of your face he can reach, his lips coming back stained with makeup but he doesn't seem to mind. 

When he presses his lips against your own, you refuse to open them and let him inside. He seems annoyed by this, and sharply tugs on the collar. You yelp in surprise and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch he can reach. You don't kiss him back, but he still continues his assault with plenty of enthusiasm. His sharp teeth bite down hard on your bottom lip, and you can taste coppery blood as it seeps into your open mouth. He hums and shoves his tongue even deeper down your throat, allowing his hands to come up and roam down your torso. He brushes against your nipples, which stiffen in response as he rolls them between his fingers. Despite your efforts, your body still responds to the stimulation, and you can feel him smirking against your lips as he continues.

He pulls away to trail sloppy kisses down your neck, pausing to suck on the sensitive skin of your collarbone. His teeth brush against you and you let out a shaky breath. He bites down gently, then hard, trying in every way he can to mark you. You can already feel a bruise forming. He swipes his tongue across the newly formed blemishes, all the while still teasing your nipples mercilessly. He finally leans back and scans his eyes down your body again, and you reprimand yourself silently for getting hard. 

Zebruh then drops to his knees in front of you, and you immediately throw your head back as he starts licking at the deep gash in your thigh. When he is satisfied he focuses his attention elsewhere, removing his mouth to lick a long strip from the base of your dick all the way to the tip. You shudder. He teases you as he sucks gently on the head, not going any farther until you pathetically thrash your hips closer to his face. He takes you completely down his throat all at once, swallowing around you and making you moan despite your efforts not to. You try not to look at where his head is between your legs, but against your better judgement you quickly glance down to see his eyes looking mischievously up at you. He doesn't have to say anything for you to understand. You're a pathetic whore.

You're panting hard now, breath ragged and uneven. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of making you feel anything other than disgust, but damnit if he isn't fucking amazing at this. Has he been practicing for this encounter? Has he done this type of thing to anyone else? In all honesty you don't want to know.

When you cum he swallows every last drop of it, sucking skillfully until there's nothing left. You hate yourself. You hate that you could feel good in a situation like this. He stands and wipes his mouth against the back of his hand, smirking at you like the smuggest idiot in the world. You want to rip him apart.

"My turn," he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and forcing you down to your knees. 

Your arms burn as they're forced high above your head, and you can already feel them start to cramp painfully. Now you're at eye level with Zebruh's very apparent erection, and you're tying desperately to suppress the bile rising in your throat. He's still wearing his belt and pants, and doesn't seem to be making any move to remove either of them. He just stares down at you expectantly.

"Well?" He asks, "Belts don't unbuckle themselves."

Your body flushes with embarrassment and anger when you realize what he wants you to do. You keep your mouth firmly shut and turn your head away from him. He growls deep in his throat, tugging hard on the leash around your neck. Still, you refuse to budge. He rummages in his clothes for a moment before pulling the dagger from his back pocket and plunging it deep into the muscle of your shoulder. You cry out and grit your teeth, but this only encourages him more as he cruelly twists the handle of the knife. When he pulls it out, the wound is spurting blood and your chest is slick with purple. His hands are stained your color as he shakes his head with a frown.

"Must've hit an artery, my bad."

You're starting to feel a bit lightheaded, the throbbing in your skull steadily coming back and your eyes threatening to droop closed once more. He comes back quickly with a thick bandage that he carefully wraps around your arm, stopping most of the bleeding. He plants a soft kiss on it when he pins it in place, then returns his attention back to your face. With one hand he grabs a fistful of your hair and forcefully draws your head towards his belt buckle. This time you comply, attempting for a few moments to secure the buckle between your teeth before popping it open. He smiles and slides the belt out of his pant-loops, letting it fall to the floor. You repeat the process with his zipper, slowly dragging it downwards until it's completely undone. You cringe when you realize he wasn't wearing any briefs underneath his clothes. 

His grip tightens painfully in your hair, and you screw your eyes shut as you let your tongue dart out to tentatively kitten lick the head of his cock. He uses the hand in your hair to guide you farther onto him, and soon his entire dick is shoved down your throat. You're trying not to gag as he roughly tugs on your hair and fucks your mouth, not slowing down in the slightest when you start to choke. He's quite loud, not restricting the moans and lewd noises that fall from his lips as he abuses your throat. He occasionally mumbles things like 'fuck you're so good,' and 'you like that, slut?'. You're struggling not to pass out or throw up, doing your best to please him so that this experience will end faster. When he comes, he screams your name and holds your head there so you have no chance to pull away. 

"Swallow all of it," he demands. 

You grimace and shake your head when he pulls away, refusing to let the bitter substance go down your throat. He slaps you hard in the face again, leaving an angry mark behind that will most likely bloom into a black eye in the future. You wince and pretend to swallow, hoping he won't notice that you didn't. 

"Show me," he says, leering down at you skeptically. 

You snarl and spit the mixture out onto his shoes, leaving an indigo stain that probably won't come out very easily. You even add in a 'fuck you' for good measure. The look he gives you is murderous. He grabs both of your legs and hoists you up so quickly you feel dizzy, your arms pressed up against the wall at an awkward angle and your back hovering above the ground. He pushes your legs open wide, and you struggle extremely hard as he stands between them, stroking himself a few times to respark his erection. He spits angrily into his hand, using it as a lubricant on his dick and lining himself up with the entrance to your ass. It's not enough, it's not nearly enough. It feels like you're being ripped apart from the inside out as he shoves himself into you, not giving you any time to adjust before setting a punishing pace. Fire shoots up your spine and your eyes are clenched tightly shut as he slams into your body. You can feel blood sprouting from where he undoubtedly tore your sensitive muscles, the substance making it ironically more bearable as it adds some slickness. His nails dig into your hips and draw yet even more purple from your body. You're both panting and sweating like bitches in heat. 

You don't mean to, but you let out a strangled moan when he hits your prostate. You can basically hear him smirking. He attacks that spot over and over again, and soon enough you're growing hard again and reduced to a whimpering mess. Angry tears sting the corners of your eyes. He uses one hand to stroke you in time with his thrusts, making you writhe against him. Despite your dignity and guilt, you're the first to cum, crying out as you shoot more purple onto your bloodied chest. He doesn't pay you any attention as he closes his eyes and throws his head back, chasing his own orgasm even after the overstimulation starts to feel painful. You feel sick at the feel of him filling you up inside, and when he pulls out you can feel his cum dripping down your leg. Or is that blood?

He sets you carefully back down on the cold floor, your arms shaking in relief from the intense pressure. You don't look up as he steps away, refastening his belt quite noisily. He returns with a small key and carefully unshackles you from the wall. Your body immediately slumps over like a dead weight. He tosses you some things that feel like clothes, then gently crouches down in front of you. 

He caresses your bruised cheek almost lovingly as he says, "You're free to leave."

You don't move. You barely even hear him. You're too occupied with the internal debate going on in your head. What the hell just happened? Did someone just fucking rape you? Was it even rape if you liked it? If you came? Maybe you did want it. Maybe this whole thing is completely your fault. Maybe you should just forget this encounter ever happened and pretend that nothing's changed. Because it hasn't really, right? You're still the same Marvus. You're still the same pathetic whore you've always been. The kind of pathetic whore who gets used like a toy and likes it. 

"By the way," Zebruh interrupts your internal monologue, "If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll kill you." 

Then he's smiling as he stands up, pausing at the doorway to look back at you. You finally open your blurry eyes and really wish you hadn't. The floor around you is stained a mixture of indigo and purple, and the bandage on your shoulder is completely soaked through. The worst part of it all though, are the initials 'ZC' carved into your right thigh. 

"See you soon." 

And then he's out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo yaaaaaaaaaaa, hiveswap act 2 just came out and this is how i decide to contribute to the fandom lol


End file.
